


Perhaps We Could Join Forces

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Series: Fairy Tales and Hokum [4]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: ATTACK OF THE MEDJAI, And angst, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, I DID NOT AUTHORIZE THIS, Mummy AU, MurderVision brotp, WHAT IS THIS ANGST DOING IN MY FLUFF PIECE, all hail the Nerd Queen, all hail the garbage king, but then she does not condone the waving of lit dynamite either, garcy, somebody help me, somebody help them, the Murder Ent very nearly gets to blow half the cast up and it makes his night, the author does not endorse the excessive consumption of vodka, these dorks pretty much do what they want at this point, this is NOT okay, you may perhaps spot a familiar face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: Jiya Knows All, the dynamite very nearly goes boom, and there is a hearty round of Vodka and Feels





	Perhaps We Could Join Forces

Jiya was looking forward to a quiet night after a long day.  Sharing her bottle of vodka, maybe some poker if she could interest Karl, Stiv, and Noah in a game, and watching Flynn and Lucy fail miserably at pretending they weren’t absolutely smitten with each other was all she really asked of the universe at this point.

The universe never really paid much attention to her requests.

The Americans were subdued.  Apparently the Anubis statue was booby-trapped, and several of the diggers they’d hired had been _melted_ by pressurized salt acid.  Jiya was uncomfortably aware that it would have been them if they’d managed to hold on to the dig site, and she was horribly, guiltily relieved that it wasn’t.

Lucy was muttering to herself while she wrote in her journal, and Flynn was cradling his shotgun and eyeing the shadows warily.  He'd become increasingly twitchy as the light faded, and it was making Jiya nervous.

‘Are you expecting company?’ she finally asked, exasperated.

‘No harm in being prepared,’ he said mildly.

She snorted.  ‘Flynn, bring prepared means making sure you have enough provisions and the right equipment.’

He looked her dead in the eye and pumped the action on the shotgun.  ‘This _is_ the right equipment.’

Jiya rolled her own eyes and poked the fire.  ‘For what, open warfare?’

He pretend to think about it.  ‘That is pretty much what happened the last time I was here, so yes.’

‘Lucy, tell him he's being ridiculous.’

Lucy didn't look up from her journal.  ‘Flynn's always ridiculous.’

‘I'm hurt, Doctor.’

‘We also had this exact discussion right before the boat was attacked, so he's probably not wrong.’

His mock-wounded expression melted into a genuine smile.  ‘I appreciate the vote of confidence.’

This time Lucy did look up, holding his gaze for a long moment.  ‘You've earned it.’

Jiya was starting to feel decidedly redundant.  She opened her mouth—whether to make a smart remark or an excuse to leave, she didn't know—when a sense of awareness drew her attention to the entrance to the city.  ‘We're about to have company.’

Lucy's gaze snapped to her.  ‘How many?’

‘Not sure.  Maybe twenty?’

‘Got it.’  Lucy got to her feet and turned to Flynn.  ‘Looks like you were right again, Flynn.’

He was frowning between them, but stood when they did.  ‘What's going on?’

‘Like Jiya said,’ Lucy nodded to the desert, where they could now hear the approach of at least twenty horses, ‘we've got company.’

‘This'll be fun.’  Flynn shoved his shotgun into Lucy's hands.  ‘Here. You know how to use one?’

She settled the gun comfortably and lifted her chin.  ‘I can manage.’

‘Atta girl.  Jiya—’ He waved at his pack with a grin.  ‘Help yourself.’

‘Oh, _brilliant!’_ She wasted no time in diving into the pack and pulling out one of the 1911s.  She'd been dying to get her hands on it since the first time she'd seen Flynn working on his guns.  Apparently she hadn't been as subtle as she'd thought.  She shrugged mentally.  Oh well.  She quickly inserted the magazine and racked the slide, double-checking the safety before scooping up an extra magazine.  ‘This is why I like you, Flynn.’  Grabbing a fistful of cartridges for the Remington, she tossed them to Lucy, who stuffed them in her pocket.

Flynn nodded at them both.  ‘Stay close, stay safe.’  Then he led them down into the fray.

The Americans’ encampment was in shambles.  Their tents were trampled, equipment scattered and burning from the ruins of their campfires.  The attackers trilled ululating cries as they chased the cowboys through the city.  Karl and Stiv had managed to take shelter behind a fallen pillar and were returning fire.  Neville was cowering in a doorway, trying, as far as Jiya could tell, to burrow into the sand.  Emma, surprisingly, hadn't slithered into a hole when the shooting started.  Instead, she'd climbed on top of one of the buildings and was taking potshots at the riders below.

Flynn started blasting at the invaders as soon as he was in range.  His ability to hit moving targets was impressive.  Jiya didn’t have nearly as much luck, but she wasn’t particularly interested in killing people, anyway.  Mostly, she just wanted to make things more confusing for their opponents, and in that, she succeeded.

The first time Lucy took a shot, the recoil from the Remington knocked her flat on her back.  She lay on the ground, blinking at the sky until Flynn doubled back.

‘You alright?’ he asked, a tinge, unless Jiya was very much mistaken, of concern in his voice.

Jiya was never wrong.

 _‘Ow,’_ Lucy grunted.  ‘M’fine. Just forgot to brace for the kick.’

‘Ah.  Yeah, that’ll do it.’  Flynn gently plucked the shotgun from her arms and helped her up, checking her over for injuries as if he had all the time in the world and they were not in fact in the middle of a war zone.

A bullet slammed into the ground at their feet, pelting them with sand and jerking them abruptly back to the present.  Flynn scooped up the Remington and tossed it to Lucy before jumping back into action.

The battle became a haze of aiming and firing trying not to get hit until Jiya squeezed the trigger and nothing happened.  She leaned back into the shelter of the alcove Lucy had found with a hiss.  ‘That was my second magazine.  I'm out.  You?’

Lucy grimaced.  ‘I've got one bullet left.  Where's Flynn?’

That was a good question.  Jiya scanned the city, hoping he was having better luck than they were.

‘There!’

She followed Lucy's finger to where he was facing off against one of the invaders.  Flynn had, somehow, managed to knock the man off his horse. It should have been an advantage, but the man had a scimitar, and Flynn was out of bullets.

‘I did _not_ save him from hanging to watch him die like this!’ Lucy growled.  She brought her gun up in one smooth motion and shot the sword out of the man's hand.

The man drew another scimitar—where it came from, Jiya had no idea—but Flynn had taken advantage of the distraction to throw himself towards the nearest campfire.  When he came out of the roll, he was holding a lit stick of dynamite.   _Where_ had he gotten a stick of dynamite?  More importantly, _why,_ in the name of all that was holy, had he _lit it?_

The swordsman held up a hand, barking an order in Arabic, and his men fell into line behind him.  ‘Enough!’ he said, this time in English.  Jiya blinked.  His accent was distinctly American.  Reaching up, he tugged down the scarf covering his face.  He was younger—and cuter—than she was expecting, with tattoos only a few shades darker than his skin on his cheeks and a neat goatee.  It was his eyes that caught her the most, though.  Despite the hostility of the situation, they were almost achingly kind.  ‘Clearly you’re a bunch of suicidal idiots, so I’ll make this easy for you.  You need to leave.  Leave this place or die!’  He caught his horse and swung up into the saddle.  At his signal the riders turned and rode into the night.  He wheeled his horse to follow.  ‘You have one day!’ he called over his shoulder.

The city was quiet for a moment.  Jiya let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slumped against the wall.  ‘Well, _that_ was unnecessarily dramatic.’

Lucy let out a loud snort and marched down to where their pet convict was still brandishing explosives like he expected the riders to change their minds and come back for another round of pandemonium.  Jiya trailed after her.  This was going to be entertaining.

Lucy jabbed an accusing finger at the dynamite.  ‘Where did that come from?’

Flynn glanced at it like he'd forgotten it was there.  ‘I told you I had dynamite,’ he said, pinching off the still-burning fuse and tossing it into the fire while shoving the dynamite back into his pocket.

‘I didn’t realized you had it in your _pocket.’_

‘Where else am I going to put it?’ he asked reasonably.

Lucy grabbed him by his shoulder holsters and hauled him down until they were nose to nose.  ‘WHY ARE YOU CARRYING AROUND STICKS OF DYNAMITE IN YOUR POCKET?’

Flynn shrugged.  ‘You never know when you might need a stick of dynamite.’  His tone implied _obviously._

She shook her head.  ‘This,’ she said, waving a hand that encompassed all six-plus feet of him, ‘is why you're ridiculous.’

He grinned, not at all chastened.  ‘Hey, you said I was right about being prepared.  Came in handy, didn't it?’

She released him with a huff and spun away.  ‘Jiya, where's that vodka?’

‘Back at camp.  Help yourself!’ she called as Lucy stalked away.  ‘I can always borrow another one from Karl.’

* * *

 

Lucy had almost certainly had too much vodka.  That was the only logical reason Garcia could think of to explain the fact that she’d asked him to show her how to punch.  He had _definitely_ had too much vodka, since he was actually teaching her.

She screwed up her face in adorable concentration and took a swing at his hand.  Her aim had been deteriorating the more vodka she had, and this time she missed his hand entirely, the momentum of her swing spinning her around in a circle.  He caught her under the arms before she could fall and she sagged against him, snorting a giggle.  ‘Okay, Doctor,’ he said, trying to keep his voice down so they wouldn’t wake Jiya, ‘I think that’s enough with the self-defense lessons for one night.’

‘In that case, it’s time for another drink.’  Lucy flopped to the ground in a heap and grabbed the vodka, taking a long pull before passing it to him.

‘Don’t you think we’ve had enough?’ he asked, even as he took a drink and let the alcohol burn down his throat.

‘There’s no such thing as enough vodka.’  She contemplated the bottle for a minute, then snickered.  ‘Just ask Karl.’

‘Not sure he’s an impartial source.’

Lucy thought about that.  ‘You’re probably right.  Fine, you’ll just have to take my word for it.’

‘You’re the doctor.’  He grinned.  ‘Doctor.’

She took a thoughtful sip, rolling the vodka around in her mouth before swallowing.  ‘You,’ she said, pointing an unsteady finger slightly to the west of him, ‘can call me Lucy.’  She stared into space for a moment, before nodding and knocking back the rest of the vodka.  ‘Yep.  Lucy.’

If he was surrounded on all sides by a hoard of mummies _and_ Martians and some of those riders from earlier with no weapons to fight them off, he _still_ couldn't stop the smile that threatened to swallow his face.  ‘I'm honoured.  Lucy.’ He couldn't help savoring her name in his mouth the way she'd savored the vodka.

She smiled and closed her eyes, murmuring something under her breath.  It _almost_ sounded like _That's the stuff,_ but that was probably just the vodka and wishful thinking.  ‘So,’ she said, opening her eyes and pinning him with her gaze,  ‘why did you come to Hamunaptra that first time?’

He squeezed his eyes shut.  Of course she would want to know.  She deserved to know who— _what_ —she was trusting with her life and that of her sister's, but _oh,_ how he wished she hadn't asked.  ‘It's...a long and rather unpleasant story,’ he said finally.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean to pry, I—’

‘No, you deserve to know.’  He tilted his head back, staring at the stars overhead.  ‘Five years ago, I was living with my family in London.  I worked for the British government as a cryptanalyst during the war and after.  A man, a petty thief, named Rittenhouse broke in when I was away on an assignment.  My…my wife and daughter were…home at the time, and...and he…’

Lucy grabbed his hand.  ‘Oh, _Flynn.’_

He clung to her hand like a lifeline, only barely having enough presence of mind to keep from squeezing tight enough to break every delicate bone.  ‘I didn’t even know until I got back into town three days later.  The authorities couldn't—or wouldn't—do anything, so... I did.  It, ah, it got messy.’  He dropped his gaze to the empty vodka bottle, unwilling to see the light fade from her eyes as she realized what he truly was.  He would kill the monster that murdered his family again in a heartbeat with no regrets, but he understood that he was no longer fit company for someone like Lucy.  That he in turn became a monster.

 _‘Good.’_   The vehemence in her voice drew his eyes back to hers in a snap, and he was stunned by the fierceness in them.

‘Lucy—’

‘Flynn, if something like that happened to my family, to Jiya, to y—’  She cut herself off and shook her head.  ‘There is _nothing_ I wouldn't do.  Nothing.  To protect them, or—or avenge them, if I had to.’

He couldn't do anything except stare at her.  ‘I… Thank you.  For saying that.’

She smiled, a little sad, and tightened her hands around his.  ‘Anytime.’

He drew a shuddering breath.  ‘Anyway. I was a wanted man after that, so I ran as far as I could.  Ended up in Algeria, where I joined the Foreign Legion.  I needed work, and I was...am...good at killing people.  That’s where I met Emma, actually.  She’d disguised herself as a man—I think she was running from a father or a husband, I’ve never quite been sure—and joined up.  I found out who she was by accident, but kept her secret.  She was one of the best soldiers in the unit, and that was all I cared about.  We were friends, after a fashion, and when she told me of a legendary lost city, one that was said to hold the power to bring the dead back to life…  Well.  If there was a way to save my family, I would walk across every desert in the world.

‘We found the city,’ he waved a hand at their surroundings.  ‘Obviously.  But nothing more, and everyone in the unit except me was slaughtered.  I didn’t even realize Emma had made it out alive ’til I saw her on the boat, though it shouldn’t have surprised me.  She’d left me for dead, ran off to save her own skin.  I always assumed the desert had gotten her.  Still surprised it didn’t get me.’

‘I'm not,’ she said.  ‘It'll take more than a little heat to stop Garcia Flynn.’

‘I appreciate the vote of confidence.’

‘I'm just sorry you didn't find what you were looking for.  That you couldn't save your family.’

He lifted a shoulder.  The worst was over, but that didn't mean he wanted to dwell on it.  ‘After I got back, I just drifted.  Didn't really have anything to live for.’  She looked like she was about to burst into tears in his behalf, so he added quickly, ‘And then I ended up in prison, and the day I was supposed to be hanged, this tiny doctor crashed into my life and demanded I take her to Hamunaptra, and here we are.  I never did get to hear how you convinced the warden to let me go.’

‘Okay, first of all, I am _not_ tiny.  We've already established that your scale of measurement is hopelessly skewed.  And second,’ she eyed him sheepishly, ‘I _may_ have promised him twenty-five percent of whatever we find.  He wouldn't have cooperated otherwise,’ she added hurriedly.  ‘He _really_ didn't like you, and I had to talk him down from fifty.’

He laughed, holding up his hands.  ‘I didn't say anything!  You did better than I would have.  I'd've probably just shot him.’

She raised an eyebrow.  ‘“Probably?”’

‘Definitely?’

‘That's what I thought.  Anyway,’ she added with a shrug, ‘right now his cut works out to about an arm off our friend in the sarcophagus, assuming we ever get it open.’

‘You'll figure it out.  I have faith.  And we can comfort ourselves with the thought that maybe he'll get himself killed in a prison riot in the meantime.’

‘That's a cheerful thought.’

‘I thought so.  What about you, Lucy?  Why did you want to come here so badly?’

‘I love history,’ she said slowly.  ‘Always have.  Jiya and I grew up traveling from one dig to the next.  Our parents were partners, though hers did more of the actual archaeology and mine mostly provided the money and preliminary research.  I was actually born at a dig in Thebes,’ she added with a laugh, ‘so I guess you could say it's in my blood.'  Her laughter faded.  'My parents and my…my baby sister, Amy, were killed in a tomb collapse when I was eight, and Jiya's parents took me in and raised me as their daughter.’

Now it was Garcia's turn to offer comfort, though he felt horribly inadequate.  ‘Lucy, I’m so sorry,’ he said quietly.

She gave him a small smile.  ‘I was almost with them, you know.  But Jiya didn't want to go, so I stayed behind with her.  We realized later she must have had a premonition.  You might have guessed she has a touch of second sight.’

He exhaled with a woosh.  ‘Thank God for Jiya.’  Because _no._  The idea of Lucy dead, of never having a chance to live, was too terrible to contemplate.

‘The rest of it isn't particularly glamorous.  I got my doctorate and have been working at the museum ever since.  This is the first dig I've been on since I was a child, but it won't be my last, no matter what the Bembridge Scholars say.  I intend to do great things!’

‘I believe you.’  How could he not?  Lucy Preston could do whatever she set her mind to.  He'd already seen it.

She beamed at him, a benevolent queen accepting tribute from her devoted servant.  Lorena always said he was a hopeless romantic.

Lorena would have liked Lucy.

‘You'd better!  I may not be a treasure hunter, and I may not have second sight, but I'm proud of what I am.’

‘And what is that?’

‘I,’ she said dramatically, ‘am a historian.  And,’ she scooted closer to him, a determined look on her face, ‘I am going to kiss you.’  She paused, biting her lip for a moment before adding, ‘Garcia.’

Any thought of suggesting they wait until the vodka wore off vanished from his mind the minute she said his name.  He hadn't realized how desperately he'd wanted to hear his name on her lips until that moment.  Instead, all he could say was _‘Please.’_

Her eyes drifted shut as she leaned towards him.  He didn’t dare move for fear it was a hallucination brought on by the vodka, or that she would change her mind.  His own eyes fell closed and he felt her breath dance across his lips.  He sucked in an involuntary breath, his heart racing.  Just when he thought it might stop entirely—or possibly explode—a warm weight fell against his chest and his eyes popped open.  Lucy’s face was buried in his shirtfront, her delicate snores just barely audible.

He laughed under his breath, gathering her up in his arms and carrying her over to her bedroll.  Once she was settled comfortably, he brushed her hair out of her face, letting his fingers trail down her cheek before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.  ‘Goodnight, Lucy,’ he whispered.

She hummed, snuggling into her blanket.  ‘G’night, Garcia.’

**Author's Note:**

> The next morning a hungover Lucy is greeted by an equally hungover (though better at hiding it) Flynn, who is grinning like the infatuated dork he is, and The Garcy Scene(tm) happens pretty much verbatim.
> 
> Jiya is Done with both of them, but would not Object to hanging out with That Cute Medjai.
> 
> Oof, this got heavy, but it's Important Backstory and this was the opportune place to put it.
> 
> I'm [taleasoldastime-andspace](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come scream at me in Garcy!


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